Of Mice and Kings
by shirleypositive72
Summary: <html><head></head>Crowley is intrigued. That can't be good. Rating may change, I'm not sure.</html>
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Just a little story about our favorite King. Short chapters as they come to me. Trying to finish up some other stories, but the words were tasting stale in my mouth. So here's a new flavor.**

"Ah, you're awake."

Upon hearing the newly familiar voice, my skin tightens into goosebumps and my nerves thrum. It can't be. Maybe it isn't. Who else, though? I know this voice, and it's not the guys. Neither Sam nor Dean nor their half-crazy angel pal have a British accent. So it has to be him. And where are they, the boys? Where am I?

"Where am I?" I figure the best way to get answers is to ask.

"Hospital, love. So many fractures, blood all over, flash burn to the eyes. Nasty business."

"Flash burns?"

"Someone had a welding torch. Very inventive."

"Which hospital?"

"An uncomfortable one. My delicate ass has fallen asleep more than once this evening."

"You're not going to tell me where, are you?"

"No. Too much information will not help me, and I'm not interested in helping you."

"What are you interested in, Crowley?"

"You knew me even though you can't see me?"

"You made an impression."

"Oh, a good one, I hope."

"A lasting one."

"You aren't scared, are you? Not nervous at all. So brave, little mouse. Isn't that what he called you? Dean did? Mouse."

"Yeah, he calls me Mouse. I can get into any place."

"Cute. Mouse, Moose, and Squirrel. It's a fairytale forest."

"I'm no fairy princess, Crowley. Why are you here? What do you want?"

"Ah ah ah, you first. Why aren't you scared?"

I sigh. We could banter and be glib, or I can just fucking answer him. I'm too tired and in too much pain to stay funny. That shit's hard.

"Mouse, I'm waiting."

"If you were going to kill me, I'd be dead. If you were going to torture me, we wouldn't be in this hospital. If you were holding something or someone over my head, you wouldn't wait to tell me. I'm not scared of you, Crowley, because I have no reason to be at the momnet."

"Smart girl."

"But I am nervous about why you could possibly be sitting in that chair next to my bed like a concerned uncle. Am I bait?"

"You really are a smart girl."

"And?"

"And, yes. That's part of it. I want to see if if those denim wrapped nightmares will rush to your bedside."

"They won't."

"They won't, eh?"

"No, " I say, and the thought makes me laugh. "I'm not all that important to them."

"Really?" He shifts in his plastic chair, angles closer to me.

"Really."

"I thought I detected a hint of a special bond between you and the short Winchester."

"I'm going to tell him you said he's short."

"Deflecting, Mouse."

"We fuck, Crowley. Every now and then, we scratch a mutual itch."

"He comes back?"

"Yeah. Thanks," I snap. The king of Hell just offended me.

"And you go back for more? Even with all of the trouble he tows along with him wherever he goes."

"Yeah." I never really thought about it.

"He's that good?" he asks me with a devilish smile.

"Yeah."

"Ever give Moose a ride?"

"What's the other part, Crowley?" I ask, choosing to ignore the touchy question. Never admitting that out loud to anyone.

"What?"

"You said my being bait was part of why you're here. What's the other part?"

"Sharp and persistent. Annoying."

"Speak fast. I'm so tired."

"It's the painkillers. Sleep, little Mouse. I'll be here when you wake."

I close my eyes, knowing he's telling the truth.


	2. Chapter 2

You still here?" I croak when I wake, wondering if it's morning or night. My eyes are still covered, but I sense someone beside me. Hunter's senses, I guess.

"Of course, I am. I'm a demon of my word."

"Salesman," I mutter.

"King," he insists.

"Why are you here, King?"

"Your voice is awful, lovely. Have some water," he offers, and I hear him pouring a cup himself.

"Crowley."

"Mouse." He places the cup in my hand.

I do drink some. He's right, after all. My throat is killing me, so scratchy and bruised from a claw or fist. I can't remember.

"How are your eyes?"

"They burn less. Why do you care?"

"I don't. Only curious of their color. Didn't notice before. Brown, yes? Never blue, not with that brown hair and olive skin. Italian? Or French?"

"Tell me or leave!" I snap in frustration.

"Can't leave now, love. I think I'm very near to closing a very beneficial deal with the night charge nurse. She's quite got her heart set on her Yorkie winning the local dog show. Got her priorities straight, that one."

Struggling to get any answer at all, I ask desperately, "Am I your prisoner? Why? What can I possibly offer you that you couldn't just take? What is your reason, Crowley?"

"Dean."

"I told you-"

"I don't care what you told me. There's something there. You have some hold on him. On _Dean Winchester_. I saw it, little Mouse. And that is certainly out of the ordinary. That makes you extraordinary, I'd venture to say."

"I am so far from exraordinary."

"Squirrel disagrees."

"No, he doesn't," I admit quietly both to Crowley and to myself.

"I want to know what makes you so special. You . . . intrigue me. That doesn't happen often. Take the compliment, girl."

"You're so wrong. I can't deliver him to you, you know."

"Beside the point, Mouse."

"What happens to me when I'm better, when I can see and they say I can leave?"

"I've not yet decided."

"Not comforting."

"What's your name, Mouse? The name Mummy used when she caught you being naughty. The name Daddy called you when he tucked you in at night."

"I don't have a name like that."

"What's that?"

"I'm a twenty-four year old Hunter, Crowley. Do you really think my life ever included being tucked in at night, surrounded by a loving nuclear family?"

"I'm sorry."

"You should be."

"Your name," he demands. The King is losing his patience with my stalling and defiance. He is, after all, accustomed to being obeyed.

Deciding it is probably safer to keep him happily on my side, I tell him a name I've all but forgotten. "Nina. My name was Nina."

"Was?"

"There was once a girl who didn't carry a knife, didn't sleep with a gun under her pillow. That girl didn't sleep with men who forgot her once she got dressed. She didn't need to be able to slip into buildings under the door. Only Mouse is left. Nina died a long time ago."

"No, darling. No, I think Nina might be why I'm here."

**A/N: Don't own SPN. This story is mine, though. Drop a line and let me know if it sucks or not. What doesn't suck is "Road Trip" by Whackadoo. Check it out!**


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